


Saccharine

by WillowsMyot



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Boss/Employee Relationship, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Oral Sex, Trans Male Character, Virginity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-09-04 23:51:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16799527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WillowsMyot/pseuds/WillowsMyot
Summary: Mettaton was always sweet on him whenever a show went well. Tonight he was particularly handsy.(Mettaton/Trans Virgin Burgerpants)





	Saccharine

**Author's Note:**

> Contains language not all trans men use for their bodies, vaginal penetration.

Mettaton was always sweet on him whenever a show went well.  
  
He would toss empty compliments like gold onto the counter of the Burger Emporium and then go right back to being his usual shallow, aloof self the next day. When a performance went poorly... well, that’s another story.  
  
Tonight he was particularly handsy and lingered long after his usual “ _Oh, Burgy, I'm so glad I hired someone as darling as you.”_ and peck on the cheek or _“Thank you for working so hard while I was gone.”_ as he pinched his behind.  
  
If Mettaton was really that thankful, he would hire more employees. Or schedule him enough hours to qualify for full-time benefits. Or, for fuck’s sake, just fire him already so that he could be free from the shackles of this place.  
  
As Burgerpants locked the doors and dropped the restaurant's earnings into the safe, Mettaton hovered around him, rubbing his arm and cooing little sweet nothings that he blatantly ignored. Why should he pay attention when the guy would just go back to reprimanding him for something inane tomorrow, like the swirls of the Starfait™ being uneven? What the hell did it matter, anyway? Food should be for eating, not taking photos of. He hated that Mettaton had enough charm and charisma to run a successful brand even when he was selling burgers made out of sequins and glue. Worst of all, Burgerpants got the sinking feeling that even if he managed to catch his big break in the Underground, he would only ever play second fiddle to Mettaton.  
  
Burgerpants got so caught up in his own head that he had forgotten how close Mettaton stood behind him, nearly colliding with the robot as he turned to empty one of the trash cans. In those hot pink heels, Mettaton stood nearly a foot above him.

He looked up into Mettaton's glitzy made-up face and his breath caught in his throat, all the fuming thoughts that wound him up were gone in a flash. Suddenly he was the same stupid starstruck kid who applied to this position for a chance to be close to greatness. He could hear the gentle whir of fans that cooled his robotic body and the air wafting around him smelled of the perfumed product Mettaton used to style his hair.

"What'd you think of my performance tonight, pumpkin?"  
  
Burgerpants' hands twisted in the hem of his shirt. He'd never been this close to Mettaton before, he could see the subtle wear on each individual rivet that made up his face and the delicate shadows his long lashes cast.  
  
His heart thudded in his chest as Mettaton stepped closer still. Burgerpants looked down at his feet, embarrassed. He knew that his uniform smelled like grease and stale cigarettes. With a gentle but insisting grip on his chin, Mettaton tilted Burgerpants' face up to meet his inquiring gaze. He fought the instinct to screw his eyes shut.  
  
"Y-you were great."  
  
Mettaton cocked an eyebrow at him, clearly expecting more. Burgerpants swallowed hard.

"You were... beautiful."  
  
It's exactly what Mettaton wanted to hear and he closed the distance between them, the hand on Burgerpants’ chin moving to cup his face and pull him into a searing kiss.  
  
It made his head whirl. This was no awkward teenage spin the bottle kiss, it was long and deep and _sure_ and he felt the whole day’s worth of tension melt away as his shoulders relaxed. And then it was gone, Mettaton pulling back but his perfect plush lips still only a hair’s breadth away.

He had been given a choice: escape and avoid the venom that same mouth could spew or take a step forward to indulge himself and appease his boss’ amatory mood. It should’ve been a no-brainer, really.  
  
Pushing his paws against Mettaton's chest for support, Burgerpants leaned into him for another kiss and he hated himself for it. For staying at this dead-end job, for letting his boss berate him and still not having enough self-respect to rebuff his advances.  
  
Mettaton’s soft, closed-mouth kisses increased in intensity until he worked Burgerpants’ mouth open, teasing the tip of his employee’s tongue with his own. His kisses were hot and breathy and just the right amount of wet and already Burgerpants felt heat pool in his pants. Mettaton tugged him against his waist and he had to loll his head back to meet the robot’s mouth. The libido-boosting effect of testosterone had him wanting to grind up against his boss’ thigh, all from a few languid kisses. Mettaton’s hands crept up under his armpits and he swiveled around, hoisting Burgerpants onto the counter as if he weighed nothing, all without breaking their kiss.  
  
Mettaton's gloved hand slipped under his shirt, sliding up the curve of his belly and the muscles of his stomach jumped and shuddered. He found Burgerpants' nipples through his fur and his back arched at the touch, moaning into Mettaton’s mouth despite himself.

Mettaton pulled away and Burgerpants’ pulse skittered, horrified that his neediness just blew whatever fucked up delightful thing was happening between them.  
  
"Have you ever been touched like this before?"  
  
"N-no...no...."  
  
There was a punishing tug on one of his nipples and Burgerpants gasped.  
  
"I'm a virgin," he sputtered finally, shame burning bright in his cheeks.  
  
Mettaton's eyes sparkled and his sly grin was blinding.  
  
"It all makes sense now! You're just frustrated, aren't you, big boy?” He winked and took one of his paws in his hand. “I have just the thing."  
  
His heart pounding with anticipation, he let Mettaton lead him by the hand to the couch in the back room. It wasn't so much used for napping as it was for Mettaton to pose on as he berated him during his monthly assessment.  
  
Burgerpants laid down on the couch and Mettaton made quick work of straddling him. He was shivering, overstimulated and excited, as Mettaton pressed his body against him, rubbing at his nipples through his shirt. He had always expected robots to be cold, but Mettaton was warm—hot, even—like the bottom of a laptop. Their hips made contact and he groaned at the pressure on his hard cock, resisting the urge to grab Mettaton’s plush ass and hold him in place so that he could frot against him.

Instead, Burgerpants awkwardly covered himself with his arms, one resting on his belly and the other against his chest. Mettaton leaned back to shimmy his pants down and place a hand on the hot bulge in his briefs. Hooking a finger into the band of his underwear, Mettaton’s eyes flickered up to look at Burgerpants’ red, sweaty face.  
  
"Do you want this?"  
  
"Oh, God, f-fuck, yes, I want it so bad." His teeth were chattering.  
  
Mettaton smiled, shifting to tug his briefs off and expose his hard cock to the cool air of the break room.  
  
"Ooh, what a pretty little thing you are!"  
  
Burgerpants felt heady, seeing his boss’ hands braced against his hips as Mettaton gazed down at what jutted out between his thighs. The gleeful reaction sent his libido skyrocketing.  
  
Delicately, Mettaton pushed his foreskin back, exposing the sensitive head of his cock. Burgerpants canted his hips forward and sighed. After a few experimental and _oh so good_ swipes of his thumb, Mettaton rolled the head of his cock between his thumb and closed forefinger. Finally, he squeezed his cock in between two fingers, sliding them back and forth over his shaft and it was electrifying.  
  
Burgerpants had spent plenty of time figuring out the best ways to pleasure himself as testosterone made his cock swell but having someone else's fingers on him, even if they belonged to the man who made his life miserable every shift, was divine.  
  
He lowered his head to Burgerpants' spread legs, the hot air from the vents on his cheeks mussing his fur. Each time Mettaton’s fingers reached his pubic bone, he would swipe his tongue across the sensitive head of his cock and it made Burgerpants whimper.  
  
Soon his fingers stilled and he took the full length of him into his mouth. Burgerpants moaned outright, his legs opening as wide as they could as he gaped down at the sight of his boss blowing him. The way his black fringe swayed as he bobbed his head was tantalizing and Burgerpants gingerly reached a paw out to thread his fingers through that silky hair. Mettaton’s gaze flickered up to Burgerpants’ face and he almost drew his hand back in fear until he felt a finger slide across his entrance.  
  
"Can I put my fingers in?"  
  
_God, yes._ Burgerpants nodded fervently.

Two warm metal fingers slowly pushed their way inside him, gently fucking his tight hole open. Burgerpants took a brief moment to stroke his thumb across Mettaton’s scalp, grazing the rivets above his eyebrow. Not that anyone would ever believe him, but how many other monsters could say they were up _this_ close and personal with the star?  
  
Mettaton dipped his head back down to lave at his cock as his fingers pumped inside him and it wasn’t long until Burgerpants was loose enough for Mettaton to set a punishing pace. Only a robot could keep a perfect speed and angle without cramping up and Burgerpants couldn’t control the noises coming out of him, gasping and mewling as Mettaton fucked him silly. He shut his eyes to lose himself in the feeling, thighs quivering with the strain of holding them open for so long.  
  
Mettaton seemed to thrive on each gasp and moan he worked from Burgerpants' body, the glimmer in his eyes growing brighter as his employee became increasingly incoherent. The stimulation of Mettaton’s mouth on his cock, the wet sounds of the robot’s deft fingers fucking him, and the high of knowing that his _boss_ of all people was between his thighs mean that—all too soon—the familiar twinge signaling climax was upon him. He buried his face into the arm of the sofa, gasping, “Sir, I can’t— I’m gonna—”  
  
"Go on, baby,” he cooed, hot breath against his cock. “Cum for me."  
  
Mettaton took his cock into his mouth again and the intensity of orgasm that overcame him was like touching a live wire. His back arched clear off the sofa and he knew that his ragged moan was loud, that anyone passing by the back door would be able to hear him scream. His cunt spasming around Mettaton's fingers as his cock twitched in his mouth, he felt cum drip down his taint and create a sticky mess on the fabric below. He gasped and moaned, toes curling as Mettaton fucked him through his orgasm.  
  
Tears stung at the corner of his eyes as he came down from the high, cock hypersensitive in Mettaton's hot mouth as he suckled on it a final time before pulling back with a wet pop.  
  
"Mmm, oh, that was such fun. Give me one more kiss."  
  
He leaned over to press his wet lips against Burgerpants’ mouth one last time and he can taste his own salty cum on Mettaton’s tongue.  
  
"I'm glad I got to be the one to pop that sweet little cherry of yours." Mettaton slipped two fingers back inside Burgerpants' dripping cunt for emphasis and he whimpers. “I do own you, after all.”  
  
Pulling them out, Burgerpants hoped to watch Mettaton suck his fingers clean but instead, he wiped them off on the fur of his inner thigh. Running a hand through his black hair, he tossed Burgerpants’ briefs onto his stomach and stood to leave.

"Do clean up after yourself, won't you, darling?"  
  
The same chill that overcame him every time Mettaton kissed his neck after a performance only to forget his name the next day crept down his spine and with one last movie star smile, Mettaton turned heel and walked out of the room.  
  
With Mettaton's spit cooling on his cock as the clack of heels on tile faded away, Burgerpants was hyperaware of how much sweat had soaked through his shirt. Tugging his underwear back on, he felt as cold and empty as the husk of that rectangular body surely lying in a lab somewhere.

Damned attractive people.


End file.
